


Inundated with the fated thought of you

by Onecrazyfangirl



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Autistic Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Canon Autistic Character, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, cecil has magic!!! ish, set somewhere in year 2 if i remember timelines correctly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onecrazyfangirl/pseuds/Onecrazyfangirl
Summary: A glimpse into one of the first dates between Carlos and Cecil.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Inundated with the fated thought of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhGodItsAPerson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhGodItsAPerson/gifts).



> Im very exited for this to be my first wtnv fic!! I wrote this as a chritsmas gift for my good friend Mattie (who is Heyhelloitsk on tumblr)! i know you already saw it but i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> i took the title from the song "Fair" by the amazing devil
> 
> as always thank you to my brilliant editor Rowan (DrowningInStarlight)!! <3

Carlos was different. He’d always known it, and over the course of his life, he’d struggled with it on a variety of levels. Having a diagnosis and a good therapist helped, of course, but it didn’t mitigate the feelings that the world just wasn’t built for him. 

Night Vale was, in many ways, a breath of fresh air. It was scientifically speaking so incredibly interesting, no one seemed to particularly mind him experimenting on it, and it was so delightfully different that Carlos didn’t even stand out.

And then there was Cecil, of course, sweet Cecil, who he got to hear on the radio every day and was now, to his astonishment, dating. Dating wasn’t exactly new to Carlos, but dating Cecil was like everything in Night Vale: weird and exciting.

Sometimes Cecil was aware of that, he’d get that odd, distant look he sometimes gets (Carlos is currently investigating the theory that Cecil might be involuntarily psychic) and ask if he missed the world he had come from. Carlos had learned that what Cecil actually meant to say was “Would you not rather go back?”.

Carlos had given it much thought, and he’d found that he didn’t miss his old world. He had given that much thought as well, and he’d come to the conclusion that the reason he didn’t want to leave Night Vale was because there was still so much of it left to study and categorize. 

Now, however, as he sat on Cecil’s couch, watching while Cecil prepared something that by all laws of science shouldn’t be edible but smelled good, Cecil occasionally turning around, revealing his government mandated “All hail the glow cloud” apron and just smiling at Carlos or telling joke that was semi-incomprehensible, Carlos was beginning to review his previous conclusion.

Feelings were complicated things, and they very stubbornly refused to be understood, but for what was certainly the first time in a very long time he felt like he didn’t need to understand. It was nice enough to experience it.

After Cecil had shoved what he graciously called a casserole into the oven, he came to sit next to Carlos on the couch. “What were you doing while I was cooking?” he asked.

“This is very important scientific research,” Carlos said, but he felt his ears burn as he looked down onto his paper where the important numbers and equations were surrounded by bubble hearts and other little doodles.

Cecil looked at his notes and nodded seriously. “Looks very important, yes.”

Before Night Vale, Carlos had learned that silences should be awkward, but by now, he knows that Cecil didn’t mind. He also didn’t mind excitedly carrying an entire conversation when Carlos didn’t feel like talking. Most importantly, however, he didn’t mind when Carlos rambled. Usually people got tired, but Cecil would always listen to him with rapt attention, smiling like Carlos was the world's biggest genius for explaining different types of salt rock. 

So they sat in comfortable silence, the ominous hum of Cecil's oven as background noise, smiling at each other.

“How was work today?” Carlos eventually asked, even though it wasn’t particularly necessary considering he’d heard it on the radio.

Cecil’s eyes lit up anyway, and with his excitement the lightbulbs brightened. He talked excitedly, recounting with detail his work day, and with his hand movements and laughs the environment moved with him, the colours blinking, the air rushing. Carlos loved it. He’d asked Cecil about it, of course, but he seemed to be either unaware of his powers or considered them as natural as breathing, and he’d met every one of Carlos’ questions with a confused but curious glance.

Cecil was in the middle of his animated explanation of the new intern's way of petting Khoshekh without being consumed by the yawning void when he briefly caught Carlos’ eye. “Is it alright if I hold your hand?” he asked.

It caught Carlos a little off guard. Cecil’s gaze was almost timid, fixed upon Carlos, accompanied by a sudden rush of a soft breeze and the smell of petrichor. It was almost overwhelming.

Carlos and physical touch had a complicated relationship. Generally speaking, he wasn't very fond of it, sometimes he craved it dearly, but in a very specific way, sometimes it hurt. Most people didn’t give him the space he needed for experimentation, but he knew that Cecil would. So tentatively he nodded, reaching out to take Cecil’s hand. Cecil immediately laced their fingers together. That didn’t feel bad, just a little cramped, and he felt a rush of excited emotion from Cecil. It seemed the slight telepathy apparently also worked based on touch. Carlos shifted his hands a little to be more comfortable, Cecil shifted a bit closer.

The whole thing was very slow, but then Carlos gently laid his head on Cecil’s shoulder, who was almost vibrating with excitement. The air around them seemed to shimmer, like a distant heat haze, with Cecil’s feelings. It was a dazzling display, and Carlos had never felt more cared for. 

Cecil moved a hand ever so gently towards Carlos’ hair. He made a gesture.  _ May I? _

Carlos nodded and Cecil gently sunk his hand into Carlos’ hair. It was nice actually, Cecil stroked his hair in a rhythmic motion, careful not to tangle it or yank at it. Carlos let out a quiet, happy sound. He turned to look at Cecil who was looking back at him wide eyed and openly adoring. Pinpricks of light burst around them, looking almost like fireflies. Carlos felt like he was in a movie, surrounded by light, the rest of the world disappearing.

His heart thundered in his chest, and he could feel the flush creep its way along his neck and ears.

“It’s so soft!” Cecil marveled, flapping his hands with excitement. 

Carlos understood him then. Night Vale was so different that perhaps no one would ever find the words to express the shared feeling of unity they had right now. But that was alright because Cecil made the lamps flicker and bounce; Carlos called him “neat” and attempted to explain gravity to him.

They both knew what it meant:  _ I like you, I am happy, I am safe, I am home.  _

They sat there together, experimenting with small touches for a while. Cecil was clearly happy to indulge him, and very quick to stop at the first sign of discomfort. Eventually Carlos tired of it, mentally taking notes on both his and Cecil’s responses to write down later. The oven was still humming and Carlos sighed a little. The humming had started to grate on him now. 

Like clockwork, Cecil clicked his fingers, and out of nowhere a soft background tune started playing, unobtrusive but perfect.

“Better?” he said kindly.

That was the first moment Carlos realised he was falling in love with him. This utterly impossible man, who recounted unknowable horrors like it was boring chit chat, who had sat there looking at the lights above the Arby’s with him, who was kind and weird and fit right in with Carlos. 

“Yes, Cecil,” is the only thing he managed to say. “Thank you.”

Cecil smiled and stood up. “The casserole must be done by now!” he said, heading over to the oven and pulling the casserole in question out of the hot oven without mittens on. 

They ate together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. They watched a documentary that was intermittently broken up by government propaganda. Cecil asked Carlos to stay the night and for the first time he said yes.

Carlos mulled the day over while pretending to sleep, as you did in Night Vale. He realised he didn’t just want to stay for science anymore. He wanted to stay because this world was built for him, because Cecil was here, because of the town and its people, no matter the dangers.He wanted to stay because it was home, the only one he’d ever had. 

He wanted to stay because he loved it.

He felt many things towards this discovery that he couldn’t put into words, so he just gently laid his hand on Cecil’s unmoving hand and smiled as the streetlight outside the window turned on. 

  
  
  



End file.
